Silence
by The Tygre
Summary: Traya explores the future and watches the crew of the Ebon Hawk after Malachor V.


**A short piece of fluff for your mutual enjoyment. Simply not enough Exile/Visas pairings around these days.**

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_"There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear."_

- I John; Chapter IV, Verse 18

"_Ves, vry vrord."_

-Mazikeen to Lucifer

Silence.

It permeated all of Malachor V like the poisonous mists. Even the thunder tearing across the skies, Hanhar screaming in rage, or the dead thud of Sith bodies being cut down by the Exile disturbed the quiet. Traya sat in her silence, in the core of that dead world, the place of her fall, her exile, and listened to the silence. The power of the Core flowed through her, emboldened her, and so, her mind flew.

Traya's mind swam through the astral void of time in to the future, and looked upon the galaxy. She swam a little ahead in time. There was the red-maned huntress killing the beast, releasing herself. There was the Handmaiden losing herself to rage, fighting the oracle. Fighting and losing, badly. Traya could feel everything about that battle. The rage from Briana. The anticipation from Visas. The blinding flashes as lightsabres clashed. The shame from the girl as the woman gained victory and spared her out of weakness, the shameful realization that the blind 'Sith' was more of a Jedi than she could ever hope to be. And the ultimate shame of walking down the halls of Trayus academy with her savior, knowing whom the Exile truly loved.

Traya would have smiled at this inner death. But nothing would come of it. Nothing but peace and sorrow.

And then Traya went farther still. In to a future, to a place that only one person here on Malachor V today would see. Traya's first student cut through a True Sith lord like so much despair through hope, like so much hope through Hell.

But Traya went farther still. She moved farther and farther than she had ever been before, than any seer would ever go. And she saw HIM. She saw his rage at the death of his loves. Saw the man die by fire to become a monster of steel. Traya did smile this time, for she knew she saw the Sith'ari now. And the Sith Lord of Betrayal went back, satisfied now.

Receding like the tide, all the way back to the present, through the inky void between stars and the misty barrier between times. And slowing, slowing into the present mindfulness, watching the fate of each insolent fool on the Ebon Hawk, Traya saw the ship itself in a few grim hours. And she could not help but explore.

Silence.

Again.

No sound but the hum of the hyperdrive, like a makeshift doppelganger of the Room of A Thousand Fountains. T3-M4 rolled in. Unfortunately, the trash compactor had survived Malachor. Like it always did, the droid began to maintain the ship, nursing it like a lover, like a child. Clanking approached from the hall, rhythmic in its permeations. HK-47 stood there, large as life, red as bloodstains. He dispassionately stared at the T3 unit, and Traya thought she felt something coming off the assassin droid. He spoke, and the sound drilled through the air.

"Query; We will be leaving with him won't we?"

"Dreet deet dee deet."

"Statement; As I suspected."

Silence once again.

"Query; Will we see HIM again? The original master?"

"Deet dree dwooo."

"Statement; Than the time for commencing war on 'True Sith' cannot approach within any adequate time-frame."

Away from the machines, away from the constructions. She cycled through the ship. Mandalore stood at the workbench, silent as ever. He took out a small vibro-blade, and carved another notch into the hilt of his rifle. Another battle. Another war. Another victory for the Mandalorians ascendant. He would have liked to sleep, would have liked to shut down this suit and retire to his room. But it was common knowledge that the barracks were for only two people tonight…

Traya floated into the cargo hull. The Handmaiden sat and meditated. She had been crying, for her loss, for his choice. But now, looking in, she found there was no one to blame. If the Exile had chosen Visas, than there was no one to blame but herself. She had not acted; she had never said 'I love you' to her teacher, to her idol. And for some reason, a thought drifted across her mind, one that seemed so eerily familiar. Apathy is death.

Bao-Dur stood not far away. He rummaged through the supplies and parts, looking for just the right piece, just the right circuit, to start on Remote II. His path was impossible to see, his mind so different, so much like the machines.

The ethereal Sith Lord moved to the cockpit. Mira and (unfortunately) Atton were still intact, and better for it. Even as an astral projection, Traya would not give the fool the dignity of searching his mind. But she caressed Mira's surface thoughts, probing them. Yes, she would die as foretold, with no regrets, with all the might of her Mandalorian father. She loved the Exile, but not THAT kind of love, the love of a sinner for a savior, of a student for a teacher. Nothing like her and the fool's love for each other…

And now there were only two more to see. Tray moved through the walls into the darkness of the barracks. She could see the two shapes of blue laying in the naked in the dark. And it was hard to tell one from the other in the stillness. They had not had sex, nothing so carnal and simple. Sex was something that happened every day, something so common it was as cosmically vanilla as the purity it was supposed to defile. No, all the oracle and the Exile had done was lay there with each other, and felt each other. Had felt bare skin, had felt her black hair against his hands, his dry lips against her ruby counterparts. And they were happy. They switched vision every now and then. He would see as she saw, and vice versa. He looked into the gaping holes on her face that were her eyes, and smiled. She was like Katarr, from what he could gather. The surface was scarred, hurt, but underneath, the force moved and lived.

Visas rested her head on the Exile's chest, listened to his heartbeat, and meditated on it. She broke her reverie and asked, the sound trailing through the darkness, "Let me come with you."

"You know I can't."

"But why? I swore I would follow you, that I would protect you. Please, please let me join you."

"Visas…I want to be with you, but no, you can't go where I'm going. What if you got hurt? What if I lost you? Besides…I need someone here, to remind me to come back."

There was silence again before the seer said, "You promised you would stay with me…"

"For as long as I could."

"Than stay. I know you have to leave, but stay just a little longer. Stay... with me."

"Well, I guess there's no rush into wherever. I suppose I could stay just a week."

Visas smiled, leaned forward, and kissed her lover. He placed a hand behind her ear, on the back of her head and held her there. At that Traya ended the vision. It didn't take a seer to know what would happen next, or that the promise was an understatement. A week would turn into a month, a month into a year. And what should have been a quick goodbye became a slow, painful thing, more painful than Visas losing her eyes, more painful than her planet, for Visas would lose her world.

And so Traya fully returned to the present, unchanged. She had not realized how much time had elapsed. The silence was being broken by mutterings in the dark. They were planning on attacking, planning like they were Jedi.

Hah.

Jedi. No.

Children with lightsabres, maybe, but nothing more.

And the silence was broken for the last time.


End file.
